


Possibilities

by Dreamer_88



Category: Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14092833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamer_88/pseuds/Dreamer_88
Summary: “I shouldn’t have done that, cause now I want more, Blake. I want seconds and thirds of that, and I know that’s not possible.”





	1. Chapter 1

She doesn’t know why she’s so drawn to him, but she’s determined to find out. Sure, he’s easy on the eyes and has been charming all the ladies here tonight, but that’s not all there is to his appeal. Maybe it’s the way he stands out; his jeans and cowboy-boots, tall figure and stubbly facial hair – that undeniably did things to enhance is handsomeness—was a stark contrast to the Hollywood scene he was currently finding himself in.  
  
Part of her wondered if that’s why he turned down every opportunity that came his way so far. He’s had women practically throw themselves at him all night, but they never got further than receiving one of his signature smiles and lingering hug, if they were lucky. She knows she’s been paying too much attention to what he’s been up to, instead of enjoying the party herself, but that had to do with the fact she wasn’t comfortable here either.  
  
That might be their connection.  
  
Usually she’s all in for a fancy party every now and then, but after her recent divorce, she’s been quite the homebody. It’s been nice hiding away from the world for a while, but her friends and family are right: at some point, it’s time to move on. In hindsight, a Clive Davis party might not have been the right place to start.  
  
At this point, it’s mostly loud music and a bunch of distracted celebrities, which makes sneaking out incredibly appealing—and possible.  
  
She’s close to doing so, when she spots him having a similar idea. She’s starting to become aware of the fact she’s blatantly staring and makes a split decision to be bold then. It’s with a confidence she doesn’t possess, she walks over to the man in question, addressing his discomfort from the get-go.  
  
“Let me guess, you’re not much of a party-person.”  
  
He chuckles way too loudly for something that wasn’t meant as a joke, but answers her with honesty. “Unless these parties are in the woods and involve camo and beer, _lots of beer_ , you guessed right.”  
  
It’s pretty much what she expected; he’s not from here.  
  
“I’m Blake. Blake Shelton.” His outstretched hand she takes immediately, his callused skin giving a weird sensation against her smooth one, which has her mind going in directions it hasn’t gone to in months.  
  
“I’m Gwen— “

“Stefani.” He finishes quickly. “Trust me, you don’t need an introduction.”  
  
She feels her cheeks flush momentarily, still not used to high praise from people. The next wave of embarrassment hits her when she realizes he could easily identify her, while she still doesn’t know who she’s talking to. Blake apparently.  
  
He chuckles then suddenly. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”  
  
She laughs nervously, realizing how horrible this is. She’s about to apologize as he waves his hand in a dismissive manner, not wanting to hear it.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, my ego can handle it.”  
  
“You sure it’s okay?” She asks quietly.  
  
He draws the softest smile on his face before answering. “Never said it was OK. Just said I could handle it. You might have to make it up to me by letting me buy you another drink.”  
  
Her face is a full-blown smile now, her arms crossing playfully in front of her chest. “You’re always this smooth?”  
  
“How about you spent some time with me and figure that out for yourself.”  
  
There’s something incredibly attractive about his natural confidence—the way he carries himself never allowing it to come across as cocky.  
  
“I kinda want to get out of here, you mind buying me a drink somewhere else?”  
  
She can’t wrap her mind around what she’s in the middle of doing; she could barely get herself out of the house and into this party and now she’s initiating to let a stranger take her out somewhere. She’d been married for thirteen years and never even thought she’d find herself in a position like this again, the whole dating scene foreign to her. She wants to run far away from him and the problems this could possibly cause, but instead she finds herself looking up at him with begging eyes, praying he’ll say yes to her suggestion.  
  
“You just said the magic words, let’s get the hell outta’ here.”  
  
One minute she’s standing in the middle of a crowded party, the next she’s being ushered out of the premises with a gentle hand on her back and Southern gentleman holding the door for her. She looks up at him almost surprised when he does, not used to the chivalry, but drops it when he looks back at her with genuine confusion. This was not something she felt like explaining right now.  
  
“Any place you’d like to go?” He asks once the night-air hits their faces and they’re left with a decision.  
  
“I didn’t really think this through”, she giggles while shuddering at the sudden cold she’s exposed to.  
  
When he looks at her again, his gaze lingers on hers a tad too long for it to feel casual. She suddenly feels fidgety under the intensity of his stare and he seems to have some mercy on her as he looks away and reaches into his pockets to grab his phone. “I’ll just call us an Uber and we can decide then, that way you won’t freeze to death out here deciding. It ain’t worth it.”  
  
She realizes quickly humour is his way of dealing with things; the southern charm working on her regardless, his quick wit only adding to his appeal, but also burying him under this fun layer that might be a bitch to peel off.  
  
She waits for him to text their Uber, taking this time to take him in shamelessly. He’s different from anything she’s ever known before; the nonchalance in his demeanour being a mixture of confidence and unawareness. He’s confident enough to not need to engage in any kind of façade, but it’s obvious he has no idea of the appeal he has. His appearance confuses her—his exterior is rugged, rough almost, but there’s a warmth and classic handsomeness there that completely wraps her in.  
  
“You’re staring.”  
  
It’s not a question, it’s a statement and she blushes furiously when he catches her.  
  
“‘M not”, she mumbles softly, directing her gaze to the floor. “Was just thinking.”  
  
He hums in sarcastic playfulness and takes a step closer to her, their sides almost touching and the proximity is maddening. “The car will be here in a few minutes.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
The silence that follows next is awkward and she can’t get herself to break it. It was game of avoiding each-others glances and nervously fidgeting on their feet. The cold that was slowly freezing her into place wasn’t much help either.  
  
That’s until she feels Blake shift and cover her with his jacket. She looks at him appreciatively, but feels a bit guilty about taking it.  
  
“Blake, you don’t have to— “

“You’re cold.” Is all he says.  
  
Something about his tone of voice told her it wasn’t going to be of any use to fight him on it. He didn’t sound rude, just unwavering.  
  
“Thank you.” She smiles at him softly and he catches her gaze and holds it for a while. He’s about to say something when the car pulls up and stops right in front of them. He smiles widely, taking a few careful strides towards the vehicle and holds the door open for her to climb in.  
  
Once she’s in, he struggles his way into the backseat with her and looks at her expectantly.  
  
“So, where do you want to go?”  
  
Still not sure, she bites her lip and frowns. “I know you said you wanted to get some drinks, but maybe we can get something to eat, too?”  
  
She’s slightly surprised to see his face light up the way it does. “So where does THE Gwen Stefani like to eat?”  
  
She chuckles at his joke, but there’s something inside of her that twists at his words. Is that how everyone sees her? Is no one able to see the real person underneath the celebrity exterior?  
  
“Hey I’m sorry, I didn’t mean….it didn’t come out quite right. Sorry.”  
  
He seems genuinely upset about what he said, the lowering of his gaze being enough indication of that. It’s weird how that gesture alone makes him look so much younger in an instant; almost like a young boy being scared of getting in trouble. She wonders if he’s been made to feel like that by things in his past.  
  
“It’s okay, Blake. You didn’t say anything wrong.” She’s being honest; he didn’t say or do anything wrong. She’s just a sensitive mess that should never have agreed to socializing with someone on this level tonight, but here she is. “Can we just get some pizza? I’m really not feeling any more fancy places.”  
  
“You want me to take you to a pizza place? _Honey_ , I mean this in the most ‘normal’ way possible, but I think you might be too well-known to sneak into one of those places without being spotted by a bunch of vultures with flashing cameras.”  
  
She’s still too hung up on the endearment that has left his mouth so easily, but she knows she needs to think fast, not being able to let the driver wait any longer for directions.  
  
“I know a place.”  
  
  
  
The tiny place huddles despondent among the huge city outings; washed out under the overcast sky, fighting against the drizzle of the busy LA streets. People walked past not even noticing it was there sometimes. It was not a place she’d go often, but during her marriage she craved desperately for some normalcy—she wanted to go out to places where she could walk in with ripped jeans and a sweater, places without expensive wines or interior decorated to perfection.  
  
The inside of the pizza parlour was warm and colourful. The few people already inside didn’t even seem to notice the opening and closing of the door and the look Blake shot her in that moment was one of sheer impression.  
  
“Gotta hand it to ya, you might’ve found the only place in LA that’s not flashy.”  
  
She instructed him to follow her into the more isolated area in the back, the dimly lit lights making it hard to identify people unless you were sitting directly across from each other; it’s not the perfect place, but it’s perfect for two high-profile people wanting to have a very low-key evening.  
  
“We’re literally two feet away from the busiest street in the city, yet this place is deserted and unknown. Are we about to die from eating these pizza’s, Gwen?”  
  
His voice is sceptical, but the look in his eyes is one of entertainment. She smiles at the adorable juxtaposition. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”  
  
His cheeky grin has her thinking about things she shouldn’t, his attractiveness blinding at this point. She’s not sure what draws herself to this man so much, but it’s like an electric field she’s just helpless to fight.  
  
There’s not much space in the booth they’re sitting in, the whole parlour about the size of a small barn and she feels a shock go through her body when he sits next to her, brushing legs. She hasn’t been close to another man like this for over a decade, the sensation new and thrilling as it’s terrifying.  
  
“Tell me something about yourself”, he starts gently, “Something I can’t google.”  
  
She laughs at that. “That might be hard. I feel like everything’s out there now.”  
  
She wants it so badly to be a joke, but she can’t help but feel extra exposed ever since her divorce went down. It’s been such a media circus; she can’t even keep up with everything that’s being said about her. She wouldn’t even be surprised if her ex leaked verbatim conversations about their problems and his deceit to the media, his own image be damned.  
  
“There must be something that’s not public knowledge…”, he urges softly, but somehow talking about herself seems harder than it’s ever been. “How about your favorite colour? Don’t think I’ll find that on your Wikipedia page.”  
  
She chuckles. “Pink.”  
  
“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”  
  
“I doubt you took me out to dinner only to find out my favourite colour.”  
  
“You’re right. It’s obvious you don’t like talking about yourself though.”  
  
His honesty surprised her, but in a good way. In a life where she’s only ever known lies and deceit, it’s nice to have someone be blatantly honest with her.  
  
“There’s just a lot going on in my life right now. A lot of not so great things, so talking about myself pretty much equals a pity party and that can’t be cute.”  
  
He brings a hand through his curls and the look on his face is borderline painful, familiar, as if he understands exactly what she’s going through and it frightens her as much as it excites her. As fucked up as that sounds, it might be easier to talk to someone who’s life is in shambles just like hers is.  
  
“I’m going through a divorce.”  
  
The words hang in the air for a while as she watches him swallow. His eyes meet hers and he gives her a knowing look.

“That makes two of us.”  
  
Her eyes widen and she feels the need to touch his arm, show him support in any way, but she refrains herself and takes in a deep breath.

“God Blake, I’m sorry. I know how incredibly devastating they are. I hate that for you.”  
  
He sighs in agreement and bites his lip.

“I hate that for you too.”  
  
It’s then that the waiter comes to take their order. It’s a younger guy and she’s pretty sure he recognizes them both, but he stays professional and takes their orders efficiently. When he rushes back into the kitchen, she laughs softly.  
  
“I think he was a fan.”  
  
“Of yours?”  
  
“No, you.”  
  
Blake shakes his head bashfully and dismisses her statement with a squint of his eyes.  
  
“Don’t think so.”  
  
It’s a recurrent thing with him it seems; he doesn’t accept compliments well. He plays it off like he’s cool with them, but he never accepts them, never makes them his own. It’s like he’s dead-set on downplaying himself and having everyone else do the same. She wants him to know that she won’t be complying.  
  
“I’m telling you, he was a fan of yours. Just like a million-other people are. Why are you downplaying yourself every chance you get?”  
  
His voice is a low drawl when he composes himself. “You never even heard of me before tonight. Not judging you, I’m just saying, we’re not all household names.”  
  
“I don’t see the correlation, Blake. I’m telling you the waiter is a fan of yours and you turn it into not being a household name….” She shakes her head. “Why don’t you just admit you’re not good with compliments.”  
  
“I’m good with the truth”, he says, “But no one seems to want to give me that.”  
  
The layers to that statement don’t go unnoticed and she addresses it quickly.

“What happened to you?”  
  
He laughs at the question, a low and quick chuckle that sounds bitter to her ears. She realizes he’s struggling with keeping his fun, flirtatious demeanour of earlier up, with his impending hurt bubbling at the surface. She wants to tell him it’s okay to let go a little, but she’s also aware he doesn’t know her at all. It might be too much to ask.  
  
Or not.  
  
“My ex-wife cheated on me. Multiple times. I left after finally having had enough; years of cutting myself short have gotten me nowhere and it was almost like doing her one last favour, y’know? She was never meant to be tied down, she was never meant to be mine.”  
  
The hurt and devastation in his voice were a stark contrast to the guy she met in the party. It’s like the more human part finally showed itself and there’s a whole layer of hurt and betrayal there. Hurt and betrayal she knows all too well.  
  
“I know how that feels.” Is all she says.  
  
“I still have a job here, so I’m not home much. Spent most of my time in a rental here and let me tell you, the best way for me to lose myself, is by spending most of my time going out of my fucking mind in LA.”  
  
“Where’s your real home?”  
  
“Oklahoma.”  
  
“Woah, a real cowboy.” She didn’t mean for the words to come out as squealy as they did, but as soon as she hears a genuine, booming laughter coming from the guy next to her, all regret is immediately forgotten.  
  
“I’m glad that excites you.”  
  
He’s looking into her eyes so deeply now; she feels her breathing becoming softer as she smiles. Her body squirms a little on the leather sofa, as her muscles finally relax and she finds her peace with sitting this close to him. There is something about his gaze she’s never found in any other man—and doubts she ever will.  
  
Suddenly conversation seems to be easier; they fall into an automatic conversation, the hurt of their current situation coming up at times and disappearing just as fast. Gwen shares stories about her growing up in California and Blake teases her about the differences of where he grew up. She’s not even aware of how much time has passed until the waiter is back with their pizzas and drinks.  
  
She catches Blake staring at his plate and he pokes his fork into her direction.

“This better be good, since it might be the last thing I ever eat.”  
  
A high-pitched laugh escapes her lips and she shakes her head at his dramatics.

“Hasn’t your mom taught you to never judge a book by its cover? Besides, this place isn’t too posh so you wouldn’t feel intimidated. I think a thank you is in order.”  
  
He raises his eyebrow. “Posh? You’re definitely from here.”  
  
“Shut up and eat.”  
  
She watches him take the first bite and wiggles her eyebrow in anticipation. He sits back a little, his foot rubbing against hers under the table.

“Damnit, Gwen. You’re right again.”  
  
She claps her hands victoriously, a proud smile plastered on her face.  
  
“You should really learn to listen to me.”  
  
“I guess so.” He grins.  
  
His eyes land on hers again, but she doesn’t meet his gaze this time. She just focuses on her pizza and tries to block it out, and eventually she feels him turn back to his own plate. When he stares again, she calls him out on it.  
  
“Stop staring at me.” She whispers.  
  
“I don’t think I can.”  
  
She swallows the last bit of her slice and finally turns to look at him. There was a warmth he exuded with only the gentle caress of his glance on her; it felt like she could melt into him like ice-cream on a warm porcelain bowl, like she belonged next to him. There was an ache there suddenly, an overwhelming urge to be touched by him or reach out and touch him herself.  
  
The feeling scares her so much, she looks away from him so quickly, it’s almost like she flinched.  
  
“What’s wrong?” His tone is gentle and there’s something about his attentiveness….  
  
“You make me nervous”, she admits silently. She can’t remember a time where she wasn’t passive, her sudden honesty feeling too brazen to be hers.  
  
“Why?”  
  
When she doesn’t answer, he reaches for her hand that’s resting on the edge of the table. The heat from his fingers parting hers slightly resonates deep within her and she almost feels like pulling her hand away, but the warmth of his skin on hers and the desperation of wanting more of that, is not necessarily unwanted. “You can talk to me, Gwen.”  
  
“Because I want you”, she spits out quickly. “I don’t know you, I just met you, but I want you. I don’t know why I feel what I feel, so please don’t ask.”  
  
He leans in then, his lips only centimetres away from hers and she knows he’s waiting for silent consent; this is her time to say no, pull away, put an end to what’s undoubtedly a mistake, but instead she nods her head softly. He moves the final centimetre and kisses her gently, pecking her lips twice, then licks her bottom lip slowly, asking her for permission to go further and she gives it to him. The kiss is slow and gentle and everything she imagined it would be from the hours that she’s known him.  
  
They pull away before it can get too inappropriate for in public, even though the low lighting in the back area made it almost impossible for anyone to see them. She touches her lip in disbelief of what just happened; she can’t believe she just did that.  
  
She can’t believe it was as good as it was.  
  
“I usually don’t do that.” She whispers.  
  
“Do what?” He presses.  
  
Her eyes find their way up to his again and she can tell he just needs to hear her say it; he needs clarity, he doesn’t want to live in any more uncertainty.  
  
“Kiss strangers.”  
  
He chuckles. “Everyone is a stranger at first.”  
  
She shakes her head. “This wasn’t a good idea. I know that now.”  
  
She watches his face drop and she mentally kicks herself for being the reason. She’s only known this man for a couple hours, but it’s easy to see he’s special—one of the good ones. Selfishly, she wants to be around him for many more days, built a friendship with him, get the opportunity to touch him some more, but she knows the odds of these things ever working out aren’t in her favour.  
  
After taking some time to come back from her statement, he asks the obvious question.  
  
“And why’s that, Gwen? Cause from what I just witnessed, it didn’t seem like you hated it too much.” His voice was firm, maybe even a hint of frustration there.  
  
She finds his hand on his lap and intertwines their fingers, the need for intimacy greater than her common sense. She also wants desperately for him to know she means well.  
  
“That’s exactly the problem”, she says shakily. “I shouldn’t have done that, cause now I want more, Blake. I want seconds and thirds of that, and I know that’s not possible.”  
  
As soon as the words left her mouth, he’s gesturing for the waiter to come to their table and her heart drops. He’s over this already, she messed it up and now he’s leaving.  
  
To her surprise, it’s not the bill he asks when the younger guy stands beside their booth once again. It’s a pen. He writes something down quickly on the napkin next to his plate and thanks the waiter with a friendly smile as he hands the pen back. He folds the napkin up and hands it over to her.  
  
“Don’t open it until you get home.” He instructs.  
  
Her eyes widen again and she’s about to protest when he shakes his head. “Not happening. You’ll have to be patient.”  
  
She bites her lip and looks at the little folded up napkin in her hand. The urge to open it and read whatever words he wrote is overwhelming, but she finds the strength to supress it. She doesn’t exactly know why, but there’s something dangerous and exciting about his sudden mystery.  
  
She puts it into the pocket of her jacket and focuses her gaze back on Blake. “I’ve never met someone like you before.”

There’s a silence and then a low chuckle. “Is that a good thing?”  
  
“Yeah.” She muses. “It’s a positive thing, means you’re pretty special.”  
  
His words visibly affect him and it’s a powerful thing to realize he’s greatly affected by her; he _wants_ her and he’s not subtle about it either. He shifts almost uncomfortably and the scent of his cologne suddenly drifts through her nostrils more heavily, and a tingling sensation disrupts her relaxed joints, as the tables turn; she’s caught in his web again.  
  
The game of desire intoxicating.  
  
“You’re pretty special yourself. I mean god damn, you managed to turn a dull night into one of the best ones I’ve had in years.”  
  
She wonders if he’s aware of all the sheer honesty and vulnerability he exudes sometimes, but she likes it too much to jeopardise him stopping, so she doesn’t draw further attention to it.  
  
“Ditto.”  
  
He smiles at her and damn, she wants to bottle that visual up and be able to look at it whenever she’s feeling down. It’s crazy how this man has her smitten already.  
  
They sit and talk for a few more minutes before he pays the bill and gets her an Uber to drive her home. It’s weird when they have to say goodbye; she’s much sadder about it than she ever thought possible—he was a stranger before tonight, after all.  
  
“It was nice meeting you, Gwen.” He says softly, closing the distance between their bodies as his hand lands on her lower back.  
  
Like a magnetic pull, she walks straight into his arms and hugs him. She feels him relax against her, his head nuzzling into the crook of her neck. She’s quickly finding out that feeling him against her skin is her next obsessions and it breaks her heart to realize she’s saying goodbye to all of that. It’s like the universe gave her this incredible gift for one night and then makes her give it up.  
  
Her arms are thrown around his neck and it’s crazy how his scent is something she already knows for a fact she’ll miss. The night air does nothing to cool her overheating body down and she knows she’s screwed. Undeniably, wholeheartedly screwed.  
  
“Is it okay if I kiss you one more time?”

She whispers the words, afraid to even look at him when she says it, but she knows she’ll regret it if she doesn’t.  
  
Before she can even blink, or breathe, or process what’s happening, his hand pulls her face up as he crashes his lips onto hers. Both his hands moved to each side of her cheek and she slightly gasped at the intensity he poured into it—but gave herself over to it completely. He pulls away slightly to look at her, his lips still hovering closely to hers as he smiles that signature smile. She’s getting lost in the crystal blue of his eyes, as his fingers softly trail down her cheeks.  
  
“Something like that?” He asks lowly.  
  
She takes in a deep breath, trying desperately to feel her lips and tongue again.  
  
“Something like that”, she whispers.  
  
She pulls away completely when she hears the car pull up, much like the first time, only now he’s not forcing his way into the backseat. Instead he watches her get in and closes the door when he’s sure she’s situated.  
  
“Take care, Gwen.”  
  
He waves sweetly as the driver begins to drive away and she doesn’t stop waving until he’s completely disappeared from her sight. There’s a sunken feeling in her gut; she didn’t even ask for his number and there’s no way their paths will cross again. She will have to try and forget him, erase him from her memory, but there’s something about him that completely captured her heart.  
  
No, it was clear from the moment she stepped out of the car, onto her driveway, that she’s not going to forget about Blake anytime soon. The whole car-ride was spent fantasizing about this stranger who really isn’t a stranger anymore.  
  
Walking into her empty mansion—alone—, she feels the desperation hit as she leans against the wall.  
  
_What the hell happened tonight_?  
  
Meeting Blake had given her that little shimmer of hope—like maybe there are people out there who can genuinely enjoy her presence—but the notion of hope had almost become meaningless; when her mind lingers on it hope like that, they just start to feel like cruel tricks. She went out tonight with the intention of engaging in some meaningless conversation, with people who didn’t give a damn about her. It should’ve been socializing in the shallowest of ways, but instead she meets a guy who gives layers a whole new meaning. A guy who gives her truth and generosity without asking anything in return.  
  
She’s scared too, because even though she doesn’t want to admit it, he’s made an impact already; his words had rocked her world, leaving her wanting more from him in ways she hasn’t been getting accustomed to in years, his voice was gentle and soft, but with an echo that had the power to tear down walls—if only he’d stick around longer. She’s a tangled wreck; the parts that are untangled are available, useable. The rest of her is just a mess, useless, until it’s untied. She thinks he could do it.  
  
Thinking about him is bittersweet; it reminds her of the little things in life that make everything worth it and simultaneously adds to her pain—it’s another abandonment.  
  
Taking off her shoes and coat, she remembers the napkin that’s still in her pocket and she nearly trips as she runs to get it. Her fingers tremble slightly, the power of the imprint he’s left on her overwhelming all her senses. Her nerves are at an all-time high, but she can’t deny the thrilling sensation going through her body at the same time.  
  
When she unfolds the napkin, there’s a number scratched on the folded piece of paper and she grabs her phone quickly to put it in there. Underneath, is a small message:  
  
  
“ _Use it whenever you feel like it. You might just realize that possibilities are endless.”_


	2. Chapter 2

There are a million reasons as to why this probably isn’t a good idea. It’s been three weeks since that Clive Davis party, three weeks since this stranger put a hold on her heart. She remembers the casualty of his outfit and the mysterious demeanour that just wasn’t quite right against the celebrity drizzle of the party. He was smooth with the ladies that night, in stark contrast of his rough, calloused, hands against hers when she went to shake them. His face when they met, was one of confidence—like he played a game he wasn’t accustomed to losing. Only to find out hours later, that he indeed _did_ lose.  
  
Amid the awfulness of her divorce, and seeing her kids much less than before—the custody arrangement more in her favour than her ex-husband’s, but still not nearly enough—the thought of Blake brings moments of peace and infectious happiness throughout the day. What starts out as an innocent recollection turns into this weird tingling feeling in her body, much likes when she’s anxious, only instead of worry, this feeling is warm. It passes through her like ocean waves, washing most of the stress away, all that stays with her is the gentle memory of being the recipient of Blake’s adoring stare and blissful, yet light touches.  
  
If only she could bathe in it a little longer today—her kids seem to have much different plans. Her peaceful thinking is disturbed loudly by three kids running past her, the youngest falling behind eventually as she scoops him up. The other two had gotten around that age where showing their mother affection had turned down a notch, but luckily for her, Apollo still very much clung to her like a moth to a flame.  
  
When the sound of glass breaking emerges from the living room, she leaves the hallway with Apollo hunched up her hip and a ‘no-bullshit’ kind of attitude: it’s all fun and games until it isn’t anymore. Assessing the damage in the main room isn’t as horrific as she thought it’d be, the shattered vase the only real mess.  
  
“What did I tell you guys about running through the house and fighting each other?”  
  
Her voice is stricter than what she feels like, but it seems to be enough for her two older sons to feel slightly guilty about the disruption they caused.  
  
“I’m sorry mom”, they say in unison, heads lowering like they’re expecting to get yelled at.  
  
Maybe at another time, she would’ve disciplined them more, gave them a lecture about how running around recklessly could get one of them hurt one day, but today isn’t the day. Truthfully, she’s way too excited about having them back again; she realizes she actually misses all the chaos when they’re not around.  
  
Setting Apollo down on the ground, she gestures for the other two to take his hand. “It’s okay, stay out of this area so you guys don’t cut yourself on the pieces of glass.”  
  
Realizing they’re not in trouble causes their youthful smiles to explode on their faces and Kingston’s the first to test the waters. “So we’re not in trouble?”  
  
“Not this time”, she retorts. “Next time you’ll both be in trouble, you hear me?”  
  
They nod yes but she knows everything after ‘not this time’ probably hasn’t been absorbed in their excited frenzy. They utter a few more rushed apologies as they exit the living room and drag a confused Apollo with them. It’s the sound of their laughter in the hallway that fills her ears while she cleans up the destroyed vase and it’s crazy how that sound can light up any day, no matter how dark. It’s the gift that children bring, she’s sure—they show you a spark of pureness in the hope that yours is still able to shine back at them.  
  
She prays to God hers isn’t reduced to broken pieces, like the vase she’s currently vacuuming of the living room floor.  
  
  
  
Trying to play it cool has only gotten her so far. She’s stuck between keeping her distance or reaching for the phone to call him. His number has been in her possession for weeks and that knowledge alone is enough to drive her crazy; these days have been exceptionally rough and she knows his company, or even just his words, could make things a bit more bearable for her. That’s also exactly the reason why she’s so reluctant to do so.  
  
She has no business getting attached to someone new—especially no guy. It’s bad enough she gave Gavin as many years as she did, giving him everything for little to nothing in return, but one thing she won’t do is run straight into the arms of the first person to show her some attention. He is still a man after all and giving her his number could only mean one thing….  
  
Even if she’s all wrong about him, she probably won’t dare to find out.  
  
Luckily for her, she isn’t left with much time to ponder about it. Being more social also meant seeing her family more, which has been a necessary improvement; during her marriage, she saw them undeniably less, part of that because her energy was drained so much she couldn’t bring herself to give a bit more to the people who actually deserved it and part of it being Gavin not being much of a family person—in hindsight, she realizes that included her too.  
  
Having to let go of her kids for another week tonight will hurt regardless, but she’s feeling blessed about her brother and sister-in law being so supportive and inviting her after the inevitable pick up. Gavin is thirty minutes late, as always, but she lets it slide for the sake of not arguing in front of her kids.  
  
“They’re all packed. Pollo has been feeling a bit fuzzy lately, so he won’t go to sleep without all his teddy’s. Just go with it.” She hands him their bag and turns to her kids, giving them all hugs and kisses, before ushering them towards their dad with a heavy heart.  
  
“Wait a second”, his British accent once used to send chills up her spine while now it’s what makes her cringe internally, “Guys, head to the car. I’ll be right there, I have to talk to your mom real quick.”  
  
Their conversations are never any good, so her heart sinks by default. She gives her kids her most convincing nod, silently telling them to follow their dad’s command, while taking a step back towards the door, facing him while simultaneously keeping an eye on the kids.

“How are you, Gwen?”  
  
“Gavin, let’s not do this. You wanted to talk to me? The kids are waiting.”

She’s way too familiar with his formalities; from the way he would sweet talk her whenever he was about to drop the ball on her.  
  
“I’m just trying to be respectful here, Gwen”, he scoffs while dismissing the gesture completely and letting out a sarcastic chuckle. “Anyways, I know I only have the kids for one week, but I want to ask you to make it two.”  
  
Her eyes widen in shock. “What, why? No.”  
  
“Listen, I have some stuff to take care of in London next month, so I’ll already be seeing them less. Just another week Gwen, c’mon, work with me here.”  
  
Her eyes fill beyond her control, this conversation being one she never dreamed of having. The divorce being something she still feels embarrassed over; all the dreams she had of this happy family ruined by the infidelity on his part and being gullible on hers.

“I have plans too, Gavin. You didn’t know about London a bit earlier?”  
  
“Industry stuff. You know how that stuff works.” He brushes over her reasoning like he’s gotten seasoned in over the course of their marriage.  
  
“They didn’t pack enough for two weeks.”  
  
“It’s not like they’re going to a hotel or something. Damnit Gwen, I have stuff of theirs at my place too. They’ll be OK.”  
  
The words hurt, because as much as dislikes the man in front of her now, she never intended for him to have a home away from hers.  
  
She’s filled with a bitterness she can’t control.

“Are you doing this on purpose? Is this another way for you to mess with me? The kids can’t be pons in your game, Gavin.”  
  
“Oh give me a break”, he hisses. “Not everything is about you.”  
  
She laughs bitterly. “You’ve made that clear, trust me.” She shakes her head, realizing this conversation is once again going nowhere and the kids are right there, getting restless, so she gives in.

“Fine, you can have them another week. I literally don’t have the energy to fight you again, just please bring them back on time.”  
  
He smiles too widely for her liking, but at least seems to back off. She’s tired of giving into him, but she knows he’s capable of spewing venom she would need days recovering from—days she will have to spend alone, without her kids. She wonders if he likes seeing her in despair because it makes his own a bit more bearable; his spitefulness intimidating.  
  
“Thank you.” He walks back towards the car, while Gwen follows to say her goodbyes one more time. Even though it’s only two weeks, she’s learning quickly that time away from them feels like a lifetime.  
  
When they’re off to their dad’s and she’s left to her own devices, she allows the tears she’s been fighting to find their freedom, finally. Falling deeper into that pit of darkness, she realized no one was coming to save her if she allowed herself to reach the bottom. That bottomless pit she’s fallen into numerous times over the last few months has never proved to do anything productive, so instead she drags herself over towards the couch, lets her tears run out before reaching for the phone.  
  
Maybe she’s just lonely, maybe she’s making a huge mistake, but this is what’s going to keep her from that dangerous place, so this is what she’ll do.  
  
It’s only about five seconds before her sister-in law picks up the phone. “Hey Gwennie, you’re on your way?”  
  
She exhales a regretful sigh, never one to be good at letting people down. Trying to remember what she’s doing it for, she manages to get the words out. “Jen, I’m so sorry. I’m not gonna be able to make it tonight. He just picked up the kids and I’m not feeling well.”  
  
“Gwen, that is exactly why you should come visit us. We’ve talked about this.”  
  
“I know”, she sinks deeper into the couch as she nestles her feet into the cushions. “I’m not gonna self-destruct here on my own, I promise.”  
  
“You have other plans?”  
  
She doesn’t want to lie, especially not the only people she feels she can trust these days, but she knows they won’t understand. She doesn’t even fully understand it herself.  
  
“Maybe I’ll call Lizzy. I just want to stay home.” The statement is only half a lie; it’s not perfect, but it will do for this one time.  
  
“Promise me you’ll call or come over if you change your mind, OK?” Jen sounds hesitant about giving her what she wants, but concedes eventually. “Gwen, promise me.”  
  
“I promise, I promise”, Gwen breathes out quickly, smiling a little when she hears her sister-in law sigh in relief. “I gotta go, I’ll text you tomorrow.”  
  
Saying their quick goodbyes, it isn’t long before she’s back facing the quietness of her California mansion. Her house located proudly behind the huge, iron gates once sufficed as the place she saw as her sanctuary, only to be reduced to a place that ‘could’ve been’.  
  
Tears burning fiercely in her eyes multiplies the stinging salt in the back of her throat, the night being utterly terrifying and lonesome on her own. She wants to be taken to another place, one where she can be herself but also escape her life. She wants to feel safe with someone who she knows won’t judge her, but also won’t allow her to wallow in sadness. That’s the thing that finally gets her to do what she’s been meaning to do for weeks.  
  
When he finally picks up and his voice graces the other end of the line, it’s like a little sparkle of hope brightens up her hopelessly dark universe—and it becomes greatly unclear why it’s taken her so long to do this in the first place.  
  
“Blake?”  
  
“I was starting to think you were never going to call.”  
  
No games, no lies, just sheer honesty from his part; he’s been thinking about her, _waiting_ for her to call him.  
  
“I…. I didn’t think I would.” It’s only fair to give him honesty in return, even if it ain’t pretty.  
  
He chuckles. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”  
  
He sounds so truthful it hurts her, because this isn’t what she’s used to and that alone is a painful fact.  
  
“I like talking to you, Gwen.” He continues.  
  
Her jaw drops in astonishment—this guy doesn’t bother with formalities, just says whatever he’s thinking or feeling. “You got that from the one day you’ve known me?”  
  
“There’s a lot you can learn about a person in one night.”  
  
“What did you learn about me?” She presses.  
  
There’s a pause before he responds. “I learned that you’re stuck between wanting to move forward and wanting to go back to how things used to be. You crave intimacy, but you’re too distrusting to let anyone close enough. You’re hesitant about allowing hope in, because up until now that has only caused you pain—It’s why you haven’t called. How am I doing so far?”  
  
She’s caught between wanting to yell at him for making such brazen –and truthful—statements about her, or asking him to continue, finally feeling like someone sees her.  
  
“I don’t want to go back to how things used to be”, she whispers.  
  
“Yeah, you do. It’s OK.”  
  
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to. I just want to go back to feeling like myself again.”  
  
He hums in silent understanding. “Tell me about her.”  
  
“Excuse me?”

“Tell me about the real you, Gwen.”  
  
It’s by the far the most personal question he could’ve asked her and she feels the tightening of her chest, indicating that she’s starting to panic. She’s been feeling so out of it lately, it’s hard to even remember what the real Gwen’s like.  
  
She takes another deep breath in, trying to sooth her suddenly heavy ribs. “I, I don’t know.”  
  
“You do. Just start talking.”  
  
Something about his voice calmed her—made her feel safe enough to give it a try.

“The real me fell in love with life when I realized my words were powerful; people could disappoint me, doubt me, _hurt me,_ but I would still have my words—words that meant something. I started writing at seventeen and realized that defined me, nothing else.”  
  
“And you’re good at it.” He urges.  
  
“Yeah. It’s where I’m most vulnerable, but also most confident.”  
  
“What else?” He asks softly.  
  
“I like to think I’m a good mom. They give me purpose, happiness, it’s the one thing I got right. Undeniably, perfectly right.”  
  
He smiles. “Another thing that defines you.”  
  
“I grew up thinking my life was going to be filled with so much love, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself”, she laughs softly. “I was going to be just like my parents, married to my high-school sweetheart, have a bunch of kids and never lose sight of what’s important.”  
  
“What’s important to you, Gwen?”  
  
“Love, God”, she breathes softly. “Truth.”  
  
The words have barely left her mouth before chills run up her spine and a silent tear makes its way down her cheek.  
  
His voice is low and gentle. “There you are.”  
  
She can’t help but choke on her sob then. The way he just so easily got her to split open her chest and show him her heart was unlike anything she’s ever experienced before.  
  
“I want to give you another truth.” Her admission is a quiet one, but his chuckle is loud. “I didn’t take this long to call you just because I’m scared of hope.”  
  
The way he spoke up next sounded like he was longing for her answer. “Tell me.”  
  
“I didn’t call because I still want you. Maybe even more than I did that night and I don’t want to use you.”  
  
She hears a creaking sound on the other side of the phone, indicating he’s standing up and walking and all she wants in that moment is for him to be walking towards her.  
  
“I consider myself warned”, he says lowly. “Will that make it any easier on you?”  
  
“Make it easier to use you?”  
  
He speaks softly. “Spending time with me. Whatever you wanna call it.”  
  
“I wanna be close to you, even though I have no business doing so. That’s the truth.”  
  
Truth is a fickle thing; it’ll drill down into your soul and wash you clean of any uncertainties, but it’s also the cause of breaks and pain. Truth is healthiest, but it hurts. She doesn’t want Blake to hurt. She doesn’t want to hurt Blake.

“Does the truth imprison us or does it set us free?”  
  
It’s quiet for a while, before his low chuckle fills her ears. “You tell me?”  
  
The question is a layered one, she knows. He’s asking her what she wants, what she _needs_.

“I want you to come over.”

 

  
_Setting herself free it is._

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

She makes herself the third cup of coffee before falling into the couch cushions again. Now wired on caffeine and nerves, she’s barely capable of sitting still. A quick glance on her phone makes her realize only twenty minutes have passed since she’s hung up the phone and it could still be a while before he gets here. Instead of chewing her nails, she’s gnawing on the inside of her cheek until the coppery taste of blood fills her mouth; it’s probably not healthy feeling this nervous, but there’s also a part of her that feels exhilarated—thrilled.  
  
Something about this man unlocks that free spirit within her she’s spend so much time masking away, for the sake of someone else. For some reason, her ex-husband couldn’t seem to shine without taking hers away; it was obvious there was only room for one person on stage during their relationship and she somehow always caught the shortest end of the stick. Talking to Blake made her realize that light never left her, it just got slightly dimmed.  
  
Meeting him again at her place was a bold move and she’s painfully aware of that as her nerves are nearly maddening. For a second she considered a change of clothes, but she decided on staying casual; this wasn’t a date, this is just two friends hanging out.   
  
She can’t wander too long on the thought that she wouldn’t mind if he wanted to do more.  
  
After a small hour—she wonders if he got lost along the way; he did tell her on the phone that he usually doesn’t drive here in LA—he arrives at the gates as she buzzes him through. The nerves that were finally subsiding a bit, came back in full force, her palms sweaty as she awaits him in her driveway.  
  
His truck pulls up moments later and she uses the time it takes him to get out and walk up to her, to take a few deep breathes in. When he approaches, she takes him in; his signature jeans are the same, but he’s wearing a plaid shirt much tighter than the vest she saw him in the first night they met. He’s so different from anyone she’s ever known, but that’s only working in favour of his incredible appeal. He smiles widely and she knows he just caught her shamelessly checking him out, but she’s grateful when he doesn’t comment on it.   
  
“Hey” He says before pulling her in for a hug. The moment his arms wrap around her, she’s gone. Her hands press against his back, keeping him against her for a while until she’s ready to let go.   
  
“Hey.” She whispers.  
  
Motioning for him to follow her, she leads them into the house and towards the couch. “Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, beer, you name it.”  
  
She’s relieved when he goes for the coffee, giving her a little bit of time to get herself together in the kitchen as she waits for the hot liquid to fill his cup. When she enters the living room, he’s looking quite nervous himself and it hits her again how similar their situations are.   
  
“Here you go”, she says as she hands him his coffee.  
  
He thanks her with a grateful nod and eyes her carefully as she sits down. “I gotta say, I didn’t think this would happen.”  
  
She bites her lip nervously. “Never thought what would happen?”  
  
“ _This_. Talking to you again, seeing you again.”  
  
“I’m sorry”, she sighs. “I haven’t done this in so long, I haven’t enjoyed talking to someone in forever and it scared me.”  
  
She doesn’t know what triggered her sudden admission, but something about the way he speaks to her makes her want to lose all inhibitions.   
  
“But something about tonight made you reach out to me anyways”, his eyes flicker curiously. “What was it?”  
  
Her minds flashes back to that gut-wrenching moment with her ex earlier tonight and she shakes her head. “It’s nothing important.”  
  
“I don’t believe that.” He says gently, his eyes never leaving hers.  
  
“Remember that night when we met? I told you how talking about myself only leads to a pity party? I was talking about moments like right now.”  
  
He seems to process what she was saying for a while, before sitting back and just watching her. She felt restless under his intense gaze and eventually speaks up.   
  
“Why are you looking at me like that?”  
  
He chuckles lowly. “You’re quite the sight to behold.”  
  
It shouldn’t be that easy for her to be rendered into a blushing mess, but here she is. She breaks eye contact as she shakes her head a bit embarrassed. She doesn’t look back up until he speaks again.   
  
“You know talking about your feelings is allowed, right? You’re allowed to feel sad about things that are happening to you.”  
  
She swallows roughly. “I have amazing kids; I have an amazing life—I mean just look at this place—I shouldn’t complain about anything.”  
  
“Well your kids aren’t here right now and _this_ ”, his eyes scan around the room, “I know from experience that this doesn’t mean shit when you’re alone.”  
  
The truth in his statement hurts her more than she’s willing to admit out loud. She lets out a shaky breath as the words are laying on the tip of her tongue.   
  
Blake gently coaxes her some more.“Talk to me, Gwen. It’s what I’m here for.”  
  
Unprepared for the emotions his words bring, her lashes are getting heavy with tears as a couple run down her cheek; she tries hard to keep it in but somehow all the frustration of the day seems to come pouring out. Her lip trembles and she wants desperately to ask him to look away, but she knows he won’t.  
  
He scoots closer to her until she’s in arms reach and she lets herself lean against his side. His eyes were filled with a kindness that seemed so innocent and geniuine, she allowed herself to get lost in it, surround herself in it until her tears run out.  
  
“I’m really sorry for this.” She sniffs.   
  
“Don’t ever apologize for having feelings, Gwen.”  
  
“It’s just too much, you know? My ex came to pick the kids up tonight and he wants to keep them for a week longer and I just feel so empty without them, like I don’t know who I am when they’re not around.”  
  
His fingers are rubbing slow circles on her arm and she relaxes against his shoulder a bit. She melts into him as she lets her guard down slowly, finding calmness against his larger frame.   
  
“They’re your kids, darling. I’m not exactly an expert in the matter, but that sounds like a very healthy feeling to have; it’s not natural to not have them with you. I get that.”  
  
Her gaze locks with his and his piercing blue eyes have a way of piercing right through her, looking at everything she’s trying to hide from the rest of the world. Blake seems to be the perfect centre throughout this storm she calls life right now. “I honestly don’t understand why you even want to hang out with me”, she chuckles in self-loathing.  
  
“Because you have a sad story?” He asks gently. “We all do.”  
  
“Because it’s all I can seem to talk about.”  
  
He looks at her so gently it makes her want to crawl in his lap and ask him to cradle her close to him or maybe pull him into her and ask him to leave a mark. Instead she breaks their gaze and tries to focus on anything else than the way this man looks at her.  
  
“And I’m here to listen.” Comes his reply to her previous statement.  
  
She shakes her head softly, a small exhale of breath leaving her lips. When she looks back at him, she tries to keep her eyes away from the caring expression on his face, as her gaze falls upon his hands. The remnants of what looks like purple bruises are lining his knuckles and her eyebrows raise slightly.  
  
He follows her stare and addresses it bluntly.  
  
“Hit a wall. Not my finest hour.”  
  
The confused expression on her face turns into surprise, the action not quite fitting with the image she has of him.

“Sounds like maybe I should’ve done the listening tonight.”  
  
He scoffs, but it comes out more like a low growl. “There’s nothing to talk about.”  
  
“You punched a wall”, she retorts.   
  
He hums in agreement. “End of story.”  
  
His voice seems to have dropped an octave, his accent thicker than she’s heard it before as he awkwardly scratches at his jaw. Taking him in now, she realizes this is the first time he’s not meeting her gaze and a weird sympathetic feeling bubbles up inside her chest; she wonders how many times he’s felt the need to talk to her these days, how many times he wished she would’ve called.   
  
“I’m sorry.” Her apology comes out as a broken whisper, her breath stuttering slightly.   
  
He shakes his head fiercely as he lifts his face to lock eyes again. “Why are you sorry?”  
  
“I should’ve called earlier. I forget sometimes that you’re going through your own stuff as well.”  
  
“It’s not your job to make me feel better, Gwen.”   
  
She flinches a little at his words, because that’s exactly what he’s been doing for her, even from afar. “I know”, she sighs a little defeated. “I just feel like I could’ve been there for you. _Should’ve_ been there for you.”  
  
He smiles kindly, his voice softer this time. “You’re here now.”  
  
She looks up at him again, her tentative but curious gaze seeking out his intrigued one. He has that same look in his eyes that he had the first time they met, right before he leaned in and kissed her. She knows he won’t do that now—he’s too much of a gentleman for that, but damn it, if she doesn’t secretly wants him to. His hand moves to her lower arm, still rubbing light circles and she imagines how that hand would feel gripping her more tightly, or how his hand would feel gently stroking the hair out of her face as she comes down from spilling his name breathy over her lips.

All the sudden she’s up and out of his arm-reach, her breath stuttering as she realizes she’s up on her feet for no particular reason.  
  
Blake’s eyes shoot up to hers in a confused matter, his eyebrows raising slightly. “You okay, darlin’?”  
  
She feels crazy, absolutely insane and the words seem to fail her. She didn’t want to get up, she definitely didn’t want him to stop touching her; nothing makes sense. It was if her brain had been reprogrammed ever since she got introduced to this man on her couch; all her previous interests had been replaced with his face, his voice. As if to supply her with nothing else to think about and dwell on ways on how to seduce him—make him hers.  
  
Blake’s confusion seems to grow with the minute as her inner dialogue takes place and she can see the worry grow more prominently on his face. Despite the worry taking over his features, there’s always a softness there—like he lacks the inner bitterness that people undoubtedly left him with and he’s comfortable in the knowledge of knowing who he is. She’s both jealous and full of admiration at the sight of it.

“Gwen, did I do something? Are you alright?”  
  
Her face crumbles and her arms cross protectively around her chest as she tries to make sense of what she’s feeling. She shakes her head softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Blake”, she exhales shakily, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  
  
Her voice is nothing but an embarrassed whisper and Blake motions for her sit back down, but she stays put standing in the middle of the living room.  
  
“I can’t”, she whispers.  
  
“You can’t sit down?” He asks softly. “Is this about me touching you? Because I’ll stop doing that, I told you I didn’t come here for any of that.”  
  
She shakes her head rapidly, letting the words slide of her tongue finally.

“That’s exactly the problem, Blake. I _don’t_ want you to stop touching me.”  
  
There’s a silence and a stunned expression on his part and she wills herself to continue, solely because she can’t be the cause of any more confusion.

“I know this is quick for the both of us and I shouldn’t feel the way I do, but I can’t help it. All I can think about is being close to you, feeling your hands on me and I just met you Blake! Do you even realize how crazy that is? Oh my god, you must think I’m insane.”  
  
“Hey, hey, look at me”, he urges her when she lowers her gaze to the floor in a sudden panic. She reluctantly looks up again and she’s met with his gentle smile looking back at her. “I don’t think you’re insane at all.”  
  
She shakes her head as if she’s about to protest, but he doesn’t let her. “I don’t think you’re crazy, I know you’re not. Gwen, it’s fine. Come here.”  
  
This time she listens as she carries herself towards him and lets him pull her back against his side, his arm coming securely around her once more.  
  
“I know this is weird for us and there probably are a whole bunch of rules on how to deal with situations like this, but Gwen I don’t give a damn about any of ‘em. All I really care about is that you’re comfortable and selfishly I just want to get the chance to be there for you.”  
  
She feels her eyes tearing up again, but this time it has nothing to do with her ex or her own insecurities. Blake’s care engulfs her like a warm blanket she wants to wrap herself in and keep close to her chest forever. She sits up a bit more so she can properly face him as her thumb moves to his chin, feeling the rough surface of his stubble underneath her soft fingertip.  
  
Not one to initiate contact like this often, she feels herself grow a little flustered. “I feel like I forgot how to do this.”  
  
He cocks his face just enough for her finger to shift a bit higher, grazing over his lips quickly but long enough for him to place a soft kiss there. He chuckles when he watches her close her eyes.

“Don’t think about it.”  
  
And then she finally isn’t. She leans in slowly, using her hand to bring his face down to hers as she brushes her lips against his in an agonizingly slow kiss. She can tell he isn’t about to be much help—wanting her to take control of this moment and what she’s feeling. It’s frightening as it’s liberating and she can’t remember the last time she’s ever felt like this.  
  
She deepens the kiss and moves to straddle him, both of his hands landing on her hips. His face moves away from hers, his nose tickling her neck before he places a soft kiss there. She lets out a tiny gasp and feels herself hold on to him tighter, all the while his hands never leave their safe spot on her hips.  
  
His twinkling eyes meet hers, the crystal blue traded in for a darker shade. His voice is rough around the edges when he speaks.  
  
“Is this okay?”  
  
She silently nods as she finds her way on his lap, basking in the feel of his large hands holding both of her hips steady on top of him. He kisses her so tenderly she thinks she might be falling in love, the way his tongue lovingly seeks hers, breathing into her while taking all her breath with him is a mindblowing sensation on its own. Before he’d shown up tonight, she wasn’t quite sure how far she was willing to take things, but sitting on his lap while making out, she realizes she does need a lot more than just this.  
  
Her hands wander down to his chest, fumbling with the first three buttons of his shirt, her nails grazing against the newly exposed skin. He grunts at the feeling of her nails on him, and the sound sends a thrilling feeling throughout her body; it makes her long for him that much more. The way her hips grind into his lap seems to be his tipping point, as he gently but swiftly flips them so she’s with her back pressed against the couch and he’s in between her legs.  
  
His hand caresses her legs as far as his arms allow—the feeling of having this incredibly attractive man feeling her up like that enough to send all her senses into overdrive. She blames the fact that it’s been a while since she’s had any physical contact with a man like this. Her breathing is already ragged and her hands are desperately clutching his back, pressing him into her further.  
  
It’s when she presses against his lower back to get his hips to make contact with her groin, that he reluctantly stops her movements and fights back against her pull, keeping that distance between their lower regions.  
  
“Sweetheart, wait a second.” His voice is a rough mixture between arousal and confusion, the tremors rippling through her like the prettiest of symphony, as her hands still from their current position. His head comes to rest in the crook of her neck, his breathing there far from unpleasant. “We don’t have to do this right now.”  
  
She rocks her hips up at him unintentionally, the image of him caging her in between the couch and his body too much for her to handle; the thought of him touching her more almost an irresistible one. “I don’t want you to stop touching me yet”, she answers almost regretfully.  
  
Always in tune with her, he smiles before placing another soft kiss on her lips. “But?”  
  
“…. But I don’t think I’m ready to have sex tonight.”  
  
He brushes a lose strand of hair behind her ear as he smiles down at her softly. The way he handles her and the look in his eyes everytime he stares at her makes her almost regret her decision, but she knows it’s the right thing to do. When she does go there with him, she wants it to be absolutely right—no rushing into things like she’s done most of her life.  
  
He leans in and softly kisses up and down her neck, leaving her gasping and writhing underneath him, and she doesn’t know how he knows that’s exactly what she needs right now, but she’s forever grateful that he does.  
  
When he works his way back to her lips, he leans in so their foreheads are resting against each other as they both close their eyes for a moment.  
  
“Thank you”, she says in barely more than a whisper, her breathing still uneven.  
  
“For what?” He replies, his own voice low and husky.  
  
“For being you.” Is all she knows what to say to that.  
  
The tension between them is still very palpable and she motions with her finger for another kiss. She whimpers when he breaks away eventually.

“What are you doing to me, Blake Shelton?” She breathes heavily.  
  
He laughs at that, the vibrating of his body sending delicious ripples throughout her own, especially with him still being so closely plastered against her.  
  
“Why don’t you tell me? What _am_ I doing to you, Gwen?”  
  
His voice is low and hot and she bites her lip at the sound. In a moment of unfamiliar courage, she grabs his hand and leads him down the waistband of her jeans, until he’s touching the soaked fabric of her underwear. Her head falls back into the couch cushion, not prepared for how good his fingers would feel there and she can feel Blake’s breath stutter against her neck.

“Holy shit, Gwen.”  
  
Even though they agreed on not having sex tonight, she couldn’t help herself from teasing him a bit more. “I don’t think I can behave around you.”  
  
She knows his brain is still trying to catch up with what just happened, his fingers still touching her lightly over the fabric.

“You don’t say.”  
  
Before retreating his hand, he slides down a bit more, his fingers getting caught between the cotton of her panties and her hot flesh and he moans at the same time she does. It’s only a swift swipe and doesn’t last nearly as long as she would’ve liked and the grin on his face shows her he knows it.  
  
He kisses her forehead cutely and withdraws his hand, drawing a small whimper from Gwen. “Guess I can’t seem to behave myself around you either.”  
  
After a few more touches and light kisses, they readjust on the couch, still laying tangled up with each other. She’s laying practically on top of him, her left leg swung over his and her hand on his chest. Never has she ever felt such an intimate connection with anyone, let alone someone she’d only spend a couple of days with so far.  
  
She knew if they kept this up, she would fall asleep just like this; wrapped up in his arms, with only his heartbeat producing audible sound. She traces the outline of the buttons on his shirt with her nail, getting lost in thought.  
  
“I have a song.” She says a bit bashful, breaking the silence between them.  
  
His eyes widen. “That you just finished?”  
  
She continues the motion of her finger on his chest and tangles her feet with his.

“Well, in my head yeah. I just thought of the lyrics tonight. I kinda want to write them down soon.”

“You should”, he says lovingly. She knows he’s very impressed with her as an artist and he’s praised her writing before, but something in the way he talks to her when it comes to her craft, makes her feel more appreciated and seen than ever before.

“What is it about?” He asks eventually.  
  
She lifts her head from his chest, her hand cupping his cheek.

“You. This”, she whispers while feeling herself getting emotional again. “And about realizing possibilities are endless.”


End file.
